The Black Wars
by Anneh2793
Summary: Fantasy!lock in which Sherlock and Mycroft's family line are natural born alchemists and mages. Sherlock wishes to research their family traits, despite magic and alchemy being outlawed for centuries. **Still a work in progress currently**


Sherlock looked up from his plate after pushing his food around for the last five minutes, glaring up at his brother, " _Why_ am I expected to do this-? _Why_ is this my "duty" to _your_ kingdom-?"

"This is _our_ kingdom, Sherlock. Not just mine. It's also tradition-"

Sherlock just scoffs at his brother again before dropping his fork onto the table, watching it drop and clatter to the floor, "Since when have we followed tradition- you hate it!"

Mycroft just sighs, rubbing his forehead before reaching forward and grabbing his cup, taking the last few sips of wine to console himself. Sherlock watches his brother, sneering a little again after watching his brother finish off his second cup of wine, "Sherlock. You _must_ marry and you _will_ marry. It is expected of me and it is expected of you- and no. You cannot marry the head of the king's guard."

"So- let me get this straight. I _have_ to marry but, I cannot marry who _I_ wish…? How on earth is this fair-?"

"This isn't about what's, "fair" Sherlock! It's about what's best for this damn kingdom!"

Sherlock flinches as Mycroft slams his fist on the table in a rare display of aggression. Mycroft sits and stares at Sherlock, clearing his throat and going to apologise before Sherlock suddenly stands from the table, looking over to one of the servants and flicking his finger to make the jug of wine spill over his brother's lap. Smirking a little to himself, Sherlock takes his leave from the room quickly, listening to Mycroft barking orders from the dining hall.

Wandering through the corridors, Sherlock eventually comes to the courtyard, watching Lestrade train the recent recruits. He shuffles up onto the wall, sitting himself down and scouring the line-up quietly, trying to deduce which of the recruits he can try and push to the edge first. Sherlock blinks as Lestrade stands beside him and clears his throat, "So then, which one d"you think you're going to push out first _this_ time?"

Glancing up at him, Sherlock raises a brow before watching the recruits again, "The black haired one. He tries to come across as "tough" however, is well known as the "village bastard". Has always been ostracised and as a result, has it in for everyone. He's trying too hard though and still takes everything personally. I'll have him out of your group by tomorrow morning."

Lestrade chuckles, watching them practice their sword skills with each other, "You know, I actually wouldn't be mad with you this time if you did. You're right about him being a cocky little bastard and I'm not sure how long I could put up with him." He looks down at Sherlock as he just receives a bored look back, making Lestrade just chuckle more.

Looking towards the pack, Sherlock suddenly tilts his head slightly while furrowing his brow, following a sandy haired boy, "… what about him? What's his name and where did he come from…?"

Following his line of sight, Lestrade frowns himself and watches momentarily, turning back before speaking again, "Watson? You mean… you actually cannot deduce anything from him…?"

Sherlock clears his throat, straightening his back and glaring at Lestrade, "Of course I can! I just wish to make sure my deductions are correct first… now tell me!"

Lestrade - just about keeping back a smile - looks back to the boy while giving Sherlock a brief overview, "John Watson. Age 18, was originally part of the North Knight's Watch however, injured in combat. Because of his bravery, he was offered a spot here in the Kings Guards. His sword skills are next to none, follows orders without question and is… well… perfect. I'm surprised he has not been utilised here beforehand. Although, it's a shame-"

"His left shoulder is injured."

"…I… yes. Exactly." Lestrade clears his throat, looking towards Sherlock, "Please promise you shall not push out Watson though, Little Lord-"

Sherlock sneers and glares back up at Lestrade again, "I am far from "little" now, Lestrade. The Earth has circled the sun 16 times since the day of my birth, now!"

Clearing his throat again, Lestrade stands in front of Sherlock, "I know. I apologise but it is habit. However, I only ask you this one thing my Lord… do not push Watson out of the Guard. I need him and this kingdom needs him. Your brother most certainly needs him here."

Sherlock growls a little under his breath, clenching his fists by his side, "I do not care for what my _brother_ needs- just like he does not care for what I need!"

"That is not true! Hell- I should not even be talking to you as of now! Your brother instructed me not to talk to you because of your earlier discussion and so my head is on the line already. _Please_. Do not force Watson away…" Lestrade holds his eyes, looking directly into Sherlock's own.

Rolling his eyes and sighing, Sherlock eventually gives in and nods back to him, "Fine, Lestrade. I shall do this one thing for you. All I ask from you in return is simply to allow me to get to know this "Watson" more. I shall not talk him out of leaving the guard but he… intrigues me. I have also been looking for a competent partner to help with my research…"

Sherlock sighs again as Lestrade sinks to one knee, resting his fist over his heart and bowing his head, "I give you Watson as your personal guard from this day forward, my Lord."

"Good! I shall take him now then!" Sherlock hops off the wall while Lestrade stands again, sighing and just allowing him to wander towards the group, "Watson! You are to follow Lord Sherlock! The rest of you are to swap positions and fight the other now!"

John looks up after hearing his commander call his name, watching Sherlock as he starts heading towards him. He sinks to his knee, holding his fist over his chest also, "My Lord, how can I serve you?"

"Just follow me." Blinking, John quickly rises again, following as Sherlock suddenly disappears into the hallways surrounding the courtyard.

"I- um- I'm sorry for asking so soon, my Lord-"

"Sherlock."

John blinks before continuing anyway, "But why choose me? There are plenty more other knights – and I'm sure servants – that are more adept at serving your needs, I'm sure. I will not be very useful to you-" He blinks again, stopping when Sherlock suddenly turns on his heels and faces him.

"If you believe you are not adept due to your injured shoulder, you are very wrong. You are talked of in very high regards by Lestrade. Was he wrong?"

"I-I… It's not that I'm not honoured you chose me from the others… Sherlock… It's just… why?"

Sherlock huffs a little, already growing bored of the questions, " _Just_ follow me."

John nods once, just deciding to keep quiet as he follows behind.

Glancing over his shoulder from time to time, Sherlock continues leading him through the castle, eventually arriving in front of the door to his quarters. Turning on his heel to face John again, Sherlock looks up at him, "This shall be your new quarters all the while you're _my_ personal guard." Sherlock opens the door, heading inside to reveal to John a small square room with bed, fireplace and a large metal tub in front. "A bath shall be drawn for you every morning – I expect you to actually bathe every morning also as I cannot stand the stench of… dirty people, shall we say. Your room is also situated here as anyone intruding would have to come through here first should they wish to reach myself. You come when I call you and you go when I tell you to. If I give you any instructions, you must follow them to the letter – that's a point. Can you actually read?"

John just stands in the middle of the room, looking confused but still nodding, "My mother taught me how-"

"Good. It is critical that you follow them as given _every_ time. Now, are we clear?"

John nods again, "Yes, my Lord-" John flinches a little when Sherlock glares at him, "Sorry… Sherlock…"

"Better. Now, I must show you something." Sherlock pushes on through the door to his own quarters, walking straight through to the opposite wall, pulling up the drapes to reveal another door. Sherlock opens it, looking back to John, "Go through and up the stairs but do _not_ touch anything. It could be dangerous if you do…"

Hesitating for a moment, John looks towards the now open door but still heads through like instructed, making his way up the stairs and blinking at the sight before him, "But-" He flinches as Sherlock suddenly appears behind him again, "Sherlock- Alchemy is _illegal_ in these lands!"

"Boring-! John, I am the brother of the King. Do you think I do not _know_ that already?"

"It's just-"

"Just _what_ John…?"

John stands there for a moment, hesitating to try and find the right words, "… I should probably tell Lestrade about this…"

Sherlock smirks and heads further into the room, taking his place on his stall, opening a notebook and flicking through the pages, "Yes. You probably should, shouldn't you?"

John watches Sherlock and his reactions before sighing as his shoulders sag a little, "Except… he already knows, doesn't he…?"

Sherlock chuckles and looks up again, "Very clever, John." He smiles more genuine towards John this time before realising what he's doing and quickly burying himself back into the notebook, clearing his throat, "I need you to grab me the pot from the bookcase by the window. Red pot on the third shelf. Do not drop it."

John just heads over to the bookcase – rather than arguing further – being mindful of the various books hanging precariously over the edge of tables and glassware, finally reaching where he needed to be. John reaches up, grabbing the pot as per Sherlock's instructions before noticing a peculiar book in the corner of his eye, "… Sherlock… is this… Is this a book of spells?!" He turns quickly towards Sherlock again, quickly grabbing the book he knocked over and resting it on a clear space on the table, "Magic is strictly prohibited as well! Do you literally do the opposite of everything?!"

"Oh, John… you really must stop being so surprised by everything. You will soon learn that I hate nothing more than "following the rules". Besides… alchemy and magic is within our blood… how am I just supposed to ignore that because of some laws made a few centuries ago…? I shall make people realise that it should not be feared and can be used for good…"

John slowly heads back over to Sherlock, placing the pot down near Sherlock before grabbing a stall for himself and sitting down near him, "Are you talking about-?"

"The black wars? Yes. My family were never to blame for that. We were framed as the ones who "started the war" when in reality, it was actually the Starlton family. They provoked us for years and my grandfather _had_ to fight back at some point. They were killing innocent people and it couldn't go on any longer."

John just listens to Sherlock, watching as he continues with his experiment and noting Sherlock's emotional responses as he continues explaining, "We have gone back so far – especially in life expectancy – all because of some stupid family feud. Magic and alchemy – when used for _good_ – can help people. People now have to die because they caught themselves on a piece of splintered wood…"

John swallows, nodding a little, "I… I know exactly what you mean, Sherlock. Obviously, I was not alive when magic and alchemy were not outlawed… but I was on the battlefield and had to watch my friends die around me. I did everything my medical training taught me but… it was absolutely useless. Most I treated still died anyway…" He clears his throat, taking a shaky breath before continuing, "Do you truly believe that what you are doing shall help people? You're not just doing it for selfish reasons – to just clear your family name?"

Sherlock looks up at John, looking perplexed before nodding, "Of course I am doing this for non-selfish reasons."

John smiles a little, "Then count me in. Where do we start?"

Sherlock smiles to John as well – chuckling a little also – before grabbing a few more of his notebooks from his shelf and placing them in front of John, starting to ramble about his current research.


End file.
